Because what happens at night is not nearly as important as what's said about it the next morning.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

First Rule for Bar Proprietors: Piss Off Hot Girls Who Want to Come In

The plan: Meet friend Levi, of Crazy Levi pinball fame, at Cafe Saint-Ex at 10:30 Saturday night. I live in Adams Morgan, he was in town visiting the 'rents who live around the corner off U Street. Saint-Ex is the perfect meeting spot.How it went down: There's handful of people waiting at the door, in front of an employee. So I pull out my i.d., notice Levi standing inside (and this is crucial: I notice him because the place is 1/2 empty inside). After a minute with the girls in front of me not engaging in the usual show-i.d.-be-granted-entrance-to-bar routine, I start wondering what's going on. I assume they're waiting on a table and say "Oh, sorry, I'm actually just going into the bar, I don't need a table."

The following exchange ensues:Scrawny door guy: "Yeahhhh, we're actually going to need people to wait."Girls in front of me: "But there's plenty of room in there."Door guy: "Yeahhhh, sorry, but the manager's making us." Girls who've come up behind me: "We're not waiting on a table, we just want to go into the bar." Like the rest of us, they have their i.d.s out and kind of barrel up expecting to be let right through, only to be bounced off the scrawny hipster door guy and left scratching their noodles as to WTF is going on.Scrawny door guy: Repeats his orders, and starts to look a little uncomfortable.Girls behind me: "What?"Me, talking to Levi who is standing about three feet away inside the door finding this quite amusing: "Are you almost finished with your drink because I'm not waiting to get in here when it's half-empty."At this point, a manager-looking type comes and stands in the doorway and surveys the scene of about eight or nine highly pissed off girls who are being made to wait. He tries to look authoritarian. And I must underscore a point: IT WAS HALF-EMPTY INSIDE. Another point that begs to be made: neither I nor any of the other girls standing around were exactly plain Janes. I'm not sayin'. I'm just sayin'.

So Levi slugs back his whiskey, walks out the door and we head down to the Black Cat, which is where we should have just started in the first place. It was packed. And fun, as always. And not masquerading as a blase, we're too-cool-to-care joint that has now become so pathetic as to resort to making cute girls wait outside the door.